MORE SPEED BUMPS Yesterday, I subbed at Nashville School for the Arts. Think the movie “Fame” and you have a pretty good idea of the atmosphere. Kids wearing everything from armor to underwear, sporting spiked hair in all shades of blue, green purple and yellow! I would say that it’s one of only two schools in Metro that does not require a dress code but then I’ve subbed in the schools that do and no one seems to be following the policy there either, so… It’s a little confusing for substitutes when you consider that starting times for schools are all different… 6:50, 6:55, 7:00, 7:10, 7:15, 7:30, 7:45, 8:00, 8:10 and 8:40… and that’s just for the high schools. And of course the problem is traveling up I-24. From where I Live, some 15 miles southeast of the city, one must enter the interstate by 6 a.m. if he wishes to avoid snarled, bumper-to-bumper, stop-and-go traffic for the four and sometimes five-lane trek into downtown. And that’s okay unless you’re subbing in a school that doesn’t start until 8:40 because you’ll find yourself in a deserted parking lot sitting for the better part of two hours waiting for a secretary to “buzz” you in. In August, September, parts of October and May that means the use of the car air-conditioner. In November through March it’s the heater. At $83 a day, I wonder if it’s worth it. However, all this is beside the point. Nashville School for the Arts (NSA) is located right next to the Nashville location of Homeland Security. That alone makes for some interesting driving and parking. Guards everywhere, watch towers, gates… AND speed bumps. Speed bumps are the bane of society. As Erma Bombeck used to say, ‘they are the crabgrass in the lawn of life.’ They are bothersome, bad on your shocks, a nuisance and most importantly bad on your upholstery and carpeting. There is enough dried coffee in my car to subsidize a Starbuck’s franchise. And what’s more, losing coffee at six a.m. is tantamount to throwing away a winning lottery ticket. I know teachers who would slit their wrists before they’d attempt to face a classroom full of 21st century teenagers without some Joe. It’s like swimming off the coast of Australia without shark repellent, bailing out of a plane without a chute, traveling to Africa without a Hazmat suit. Yesterday was my first time to sub at NSA and while attempting to locate the entrance to the school, an ordeal that required three full circles of the campus, all the while being unsure which buildings were school and which were Homeland, after having fought a bazillion cars entering the city, two accidents and rain on the interstate while running out of time, I took a new route between what looked like a school gym and another uninhabited guard gate. As I sailed around the corner, WHAM! A speed bump resembling a concrete guard rail, probably eight inches high, no slant to it, just a vertical block. My chest slammed into the steering wheel, my backpack flew to the floorboard, everything on the backseat hit the back of the front seat and my large cup of coffee sloshed the dash, the windshield, the right side of my body and the floor! @#$% !!!! I got out checking my tires, hoping they weren’t flat. They weren’t but suddenly there appeared a uniformed security guard with a what-in-hell-are-you-doing-here look on his face. I walked toward him with my arms outstretched as he reached for his revolver. Deadpan I said, “Just go ahead and take me in. Jail I can face without coffee. A classroom, NOOO!
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 15:37:40 +0000